Union Café - A Cafe Marylebone style.

I've noticed that most of my stories - I call them stories because i am not a fan of jargon i.e. 'blogging/blogs' and the like - start with a premise and then I usually perform some form of swift U-turn. I think I do this because I am either playing devil's advocate with myself OR I am trying to sound much more intelligent. Sadly, I think it is a bit of both.

I am trying to watch my figure. I have little expendable income. I have not eaten much recently. Food gets left by the wayside when I need to rationalise my spending. I went out for dinner last night. Now, I don't know if you've been out food shopping while high - you end up buying LOTS of things and most of them have little nutritional content. Imagine

going for dinner with the same foodlust. We were not frugal.

The scene has been set. The mood has been described. The venue: Union Café, Marylebone. I/We have been a few times. The unit. The maternal family unit. We've been there a few times.. This time I was hungrier and I think it was the first time my brother had been.

It's difficult to hyperbolise the experience, not in a bad way, mainly because everything was spot on. It was one of the easiest dining experiences I have had for a little while. I might have used that phrase before as well. Shoot me. (not literally because I reckon that would hurt although I am curious as to what it would feel like.).

I'll try and list what was eaten, and me being me, I sampled everything.

I had a bloody Mary as an appertif. It was on a board saying it was brilliant. It was ok. I have to say it was well proportion but I am not a massive fan anyway so they were fighting a loosing battle really.

Calamari - Good. They were not earth shattering BUT in their defence they were tasty and moorish.

Tuna Tataki - Basically slightly seared Tuna sashimi for anyone who didn't know. It was different. Nothing to write home about. Might have been because I was sampling other bolder flavours though

Fois Gras - Exactly as you would expect. Don't judge me (or my mum ACTUALLY). It was the epitome of richness. Did a job

Wild and not wild mushroom risotto - forgettable. It let the side down. Tasty creamy. Great texture but the flavour did not really exist.

Potted Shrimp - WONDERFUL. My personal highlight. Sounds stupid but the toast it came with was treeeeemendous. I was jealous that i did not order this.

There were four of us, but yes, we did order 5 starters. I was in charge of ordering y'see

I ate:Breaded Veal Escalope with mash and stuff - VERY TASTY. It was the Britsh(ish) version of Scallopa Milanese - that I love more than most of my family

Others ate:

Fillet steak, chips and bearnaise - did exactly what you;d want it to. It was tasty. Meaty. the tarragon - I'm still yet to me able to work out what it tastes like... maybe junior aniseed? - Good.

Calves liver and mash with some other stuff. I did not pay much attention to this mainly because I think liver tastes a bit like metal and I go a bit spazzy with the feeling of metal on my teeth.

In all EVERYTHING was good. The service was faultless. Food and drink was great. Decor was so neutral, it might as well have been magnolia. The clientèle was suited mainly and happy to be there which, given it was Marylebone, said a lot (Michael Palin was there as well!).

You pay for the quality of everything admittedly and the fact it is a no-brainer. It was hard to fault anything really. It was a bit like having a really nice car that never breaks down and but you are left feeling a bit let down by the lack of character. I don;t know. Basically. Enjoy. It's nice.

Here are some people who could be going for a drink in Marylebone in case you wern't sure what that could look like

This time last week (let's pretend it's 7:30pm)

Good afternoon people (or more accurately – PERSON – turns out I’m a lot less interesting than I thought I was)

I went for one of those rare nights out. I do not mean it was rare that I had a night out. Sadly that is FAR from the truth. I mean it was one of those nights that was particularly special. EVERY detail was PERRRRRFECT with a capital PURRRRR. I decided to leave it a week before I wrote about it in case I was just still drunk. Turns out I MIGHT still be drunk but I still have the same amount of rosy excitement in my belly as I did in the days following so I thought it comment-worthy.

I went with an old friend who I had not seen in a little while which was my fault not hers. This girl is one of those rare gems. Engaging conversation. Bedazzling to look at. You never want to be far away from her once you are near but there is a certain forbidden fruit element. Basically, every man’s ideal woman.

We met in Covent Garden. It was a beautiful evening. All was set up nicely. Having been out a fair few times before I requested one thing: that we go to a PUB. She doesn’t like pubs. I do. Aside from that we rarely disagree. The premise to the evening was that I had to do NOTHING. She said she would organise everything. Usually I am loath to accept such invitations because I hate to be let down and I like being in control. She has exceptional taste and style so I was not worried and I was most certainly not let down.

She promised me a few things

1. Fairly lights within a pub

2. A wonderful meal after

3. A cocktails extravaganza

4. Very little walking -her killer heals not mine.

Walking arm in arm we strolled to the pub – name to come… maybe… if I find it – it was a very pubby kind of pub. Not particularly noteworthy aside from some great ‘stuff’ and the hallowed fair lights. It did it’s job very well. So we had a few V&Ts – my current drink of choice - and headed to the restaurant. I knew the name of the place (Circus) but I knew little else about it. I pride myself on being observant. So as I my gorgeous ‘date’ took my arm to walk on, we shuffled 3 steps and she ushered me… NEXT DOOR*. How did I miss it?

Here is some preamble. Good service is one this I am a stickler for. Service maketh the meal or something equally as pretentious. I could eat anywhere be it Raffles in HK or the Highgate Cafe (personally I prefer the Highgate Cafe because the breakfast is untouchable and the fella there gives me a thumbs-up every time I walk passed. He has recently grown a moustache. We talk about that because I have a beard. It’s like a club. I love it). ((I think I over-use parentheses.))

*NEXTDOOR – Circus – it smelled fantastic. I felt from the second I went through the doors that the

service was going to be spot on as well. I was blown away. Sparkles everywhere. Mirror balls and some VERY simple mainly colourless décor with a LONG concrete table with steps going up either end at the forefront of everything. After being seated, comfortable buckets of moulded something, perfect for the bottom-hug that only a good chair can give. They seated us in the front rather than I the back which it turned out to be a venerable gesture. I’ll get this bit over with quickly because I am getting VERY hungry at the though

Cocktails

HIBISCUS MARGARITA

MORELLO CHERRY COSMOPOLITAN

LAVENDER HONEY SOUR – porn for the taste buds. As close to my ideal cocktail as I could ask for.

Start

Spicy Crab cakes – they were crab cakes. Wonderful crab cakes. Nice.

Coconut glazed squid which was greaselessly fried? They were exceptional. The calamari test has taken over from all other benchmarks.

Middle

Spicy Pork belly with a lump of stuffing – WONDERFUL. I’m used to pork melting in my mouth but this took it to a new level. It felt like it had been waterbathed in the sweat of very clean babies and then cracklinised on satan’s grill. I still get a little swoony when I think about it. As a result, I have eaten pork belly twice since only to be slightly disappointed each time which was resulted in me getting a little pork belly.

Seared Tuna and salad – y’know what. There is little to say. Very tasty. Salad did it’s job well.

Mini mac and cheese – exactly that. It was more of a curiosity order rather than a necessity

Zucchini (IT’s A F*CKING COURGETTE) and (squeaky) green beans. I’m still pissed off at it being called Zucchini.

End.

More cocktails

N.B. All the food had a spicy twang to it. I don’t quite know if that’s because spicy = exotic but that’s the way it is.

So this is all well and good and very much like other restaurants. It had food that was presented on a fancier plate than you have at home and delivered by someone prettier and more adept at food delivery than me accompanied by drinks that involved more than 3 ingredients (my classic homegrown cocktail is Jack Daniels, Dark Rum and Coke + a lime. Enjoy). BUT, every 45minutes or so, the lights are lowered - made less bright – and a spotlight appears at the far end (next to the entrance where the concrete table with the steps is and a girl appears in an Alice in Wonderland style dress (on one occasion) and starts to dance, not in a podium dancer way but more performance (and cocktails)… Slowly, erotically removing layers and clothes and more layers and exposing more flesh. WHAM. Semi… Naked. Wonderful. Cabaret. Nipple tassels were involved sometimes spinning together sometimes individually once in opposite directions. Eyes like diner plates? Yes. There was also the use of some ceiling mounted trapeze-style hoops accompanied by more pretty girls and small clothes doing synchronized stuff. The best part was, it was classily done so that all the men enjoyed it and did not feel guilty for looking while the women whooped and hollered. MARVELLOUS. Why isn’t the 507 bus like this?

I shall encapsulate the rest of the night by cloaking it in mystery. There were private members bars, there were less private Mayfair clubs full of those horrible Mayfairies and pretension queuing structures.

Vodka (Grey Goose naturally DAHLING) and Tonic sponsored the rest of the night with a hint of galaxy chocolate, many many smiles, laughs, exquisite conversation and comfortable quiet moments.

Here’s to life being good. Sometimes.

Laura Marling - she's not a fish no matter how hard I try

I went to see Laura Marling last week.

You'll have herd of her. She's the one who everyone has heard of and she is going out with one of the dudes from Mumford & Sons (everyone's heard of them as well right?). She's also very good and doing music and singing at the same time which is pretty hard especially if you play the trombone. She doesn't. She plays the guitar and the heartstrings with her beautifully delicate yet haunting vocals. I'm not altogether sure where it is the heartstrings or whether its the soulstrings but she 'connects' with you somehow.

I'll play you the first song of hers that i fell in love with...HERE

PS. Check out the official video as well. IT's KERRRWALITY.

At face value she is a pretty elfin lady who sings sweetly while she and her band play folky musics. I like this. It took me a while to fall for her because (as usual) everyone was going nuts for her and a friend said he's met her and she was a bit of a madam. I have been able to put that in the passed now. She is part of a young musical folksplosion. See Noah and the Whale, Johnny Flynn, Mumford & Sons, Peggy Sue, Emmy the Great and Florence and the Machine (to name the first few who came into my head). There seems to be no direct epicentre at the moment, BUT and I am in no means definitive in this but, BUT Ms Marling has been around for longer than I can remember any of the others (except Emmy the Great but adding that caveat doesn't sound as good).

I missed her at Glasto because I knew I was seeing her in Hyde Park. I turned up so see Peggy Sue and they did what I hoped they would. Sung/belted deep and richly absorbing harmonies over simple guitar/percussion backing. I like them and First Aid Kit - they stand out on their own in what they do and how they do it. This is a good thing. You might have heard of Fleet Foxes so you MIIIGHT have heard of First Aid Kit's cover of Tiger Mountain Pleasant. I have played it on here before so if you were listening your life will be that bit better.

We managed to bag a deck chair each - the brother and I - and I mean my sibling. I'm not being all A.A. Gill-like and referring an African American friend in the descriptive participle. I was there with my brother of the same parents (I think I dug myself out of the hole I dug myself into). Ok, so forget who I was with BUT we were sitting down, we snoozed, we listened, we did SOME looking. It was a clear-ish night... Life was VERY good at that moment. Ms Marling came on and well, the pop from the crowd said it all. She has an exponentially growing fan-base all of whom ADORE the music is a figurehead for.

Forgive me for being thin on details about this one but I went, I listened and I enjoyed BUT I did not have my thinking cap on so because I was so happily wrapped up in what I was in the presence of. Maybe that's the moral to this fable? You can listen to her on the way into work and float away (in a Zeppelin I reckon) to what she has to say, you could share a poignant moment with another being while driving somewhere magical (like M&S) or you could be lieing in your garden, facing the sky dreaming of the greater good.

This lady (she is a lady not a girl) has matured nicely since her early slightly arrogant days into someone worthy of every dribble of praise she receives (mine included). I LOVE her collaboration(s) on WATER with Johnny Flynn they work wonderfully together

The Water (Featuring Laura Marlin.mp3 by cooperativemusicuk

I wasn't sure how I felt about her bit about NEVER doing encores but everyone has their gimmicks. I felt half-cheated half-appreciative of explanation.

What is an encore if not just an extension to the set? It could be perceived as an egotistical act. I always saw it as a little bonus or gift for the fans. I will stick to the latter. It makes me happier.

Glastonbury... The Universe and Everything

Ok people, for those of you who are not interested in the pre-amble, skip forward to the bit that says ALL ABOUT GLASTO 2010...

So it’s been a while. June has been a slight barren month due to being slightly busy and mainly due to being away. Yes. A-W-A-Y. From evenything. I think I have started a craze - two holidays bolted together. So it ends up feeling like FAR longer.

The main thing I am going to vocalise is Glastobury. Yeah yeah yeah. You’ve heard your friends going on and on about how beautiful it is and how wonderful the people are and how spiritual the healthing fields are and how magical the stone circle is. Y’know what. THEY. ARE. RIGHT. I knew so few people who went this year. This was bitter/sweet for me. I loved being on my own and doing my own thing but I slightly missed going off on the tangents that other people’s input creates… I am going to try and NOT hyperbolise everything to within an inch of it’s credibility. I am not going to lie to you BUT I might well fail.

I’ll tell the abridged version of the lead up story - I have 20mins before I have to head off somewhere. I was going to go with my ex EX girlfriend. Someone whose company I loved but sadly being ex’s it appears we were destined to fail as friends? I miss her sometimes. Never as much as I did over Glastonbury weekend. We’d have rocked that show. The reason we failed (mainly my fault to be honest) was because I started seeing someone else. SHE turned out to be a fair bit N.U.T.S. No anagram. JUST plain fucking bat-shit crazy. She wanted love, but she had such low self-esteem that she couldn’t believe someone would love her for who she is – I did and then some (if you even think of starting to play air violins I will come to your house and I will cut you). Sadly this manifested itself in the most evil creature I have ever met. Don’t get me wrong. She is a wonderful person, she just wasn’t ready for a meaningful relationship. Her loss. My loss. The reason she is important in this story is because she said she wanted to go with me so I bought my ticket. So shit went down. She has disappeared. Glasto was the last meaningful thing in my life that was directly connected to her. Her way of coming to terms with things is to forget they exist. For me. That is one of the hardest things I have ever had to come to terms with. So maybe this weekend, finally being over was an exorcism for me. Something I badly needed. I have not been very well since she dumped me (blub blub, waaa waaa etc etc.) and for a long time I was not going to go. So the exorcism coupled the pure unadulterated joy that wells up in abundance when I am in proximity to the Glastonbury Tor laid the foundation for what ended up being the best weekend of my year so far and hopefully a possible turning point in 2010 (MAY BE LIFE). Also it was beautifully sunny! SCORE. In your faces naysayers!

So we get there (I went with a couple of girls I tenuously knew). They were newbies and so had packed FAR to much. We also got there fairly late on Thursday so had to traverse the WHOLE of glasto from the car park East 6/7 with a shitload of food and other unnecessary auxiliary stuffs. Tents up. Haze descending. Moral increasing. I took a shit in my favourite type of loo (long drops rule all). Suddenly, lying in the grass. Life is good again for the first time in far to long.

I’m going to digress for one minute. I feel like I need to do some character development here. I am a happy guy. I am motivated by helping other people, making their lives happier or at least getting them to smile and laugh a bit more. Recently (since Feb/Mar) I have hardly been the shell of myself. I am tired of [my] life. I need to make some changes. I'm barely a shadow. Unrecognisable to others. I’m still not myself but I am getting there. I never thought I would have to rebuild myself so comprehensively. I never thought that I would ever psychologically collapse like that either. I am stupidly loyal and this often only bites me in the arse. If you take anything away from reading me then PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE be true to yourself and good to eachother.



ALL ABOUT GLASTO 2010
So I turned up late afternoon on Thursday, carried a shitload of stuff that wasn't necessary of which only a small holdall was mine, booze, food, tweed jacket and all essentials included. I LOVE that place. From the minute I was nearing pedestrian gate C I felt that wonderful safeness. I'm not sure if I am alone in this feeling. You will also have to get used to the words wonderful and blissful. Ended up having to walk a long way, got sorted with the tents, I took a shit and i lay down. THIS is where I start to get a little wanky(er) so your choice. Looking up at the blue sky, in the grass shorts on, feet out with m'head resting on the tweed jacket which was second hand but unworn by me until then I had moved into my own version of bliss. Something that happens rarely and is sorely lacking all too often. These moments in whatever form it takes, everyone has their own happy place, these are the moments we live for. It wasn't long before I had had my first conversation with a passer by. It involved discussion around what the world would be like if Glastonbury as a town lasted for a month as opposed 5 days. My theory was that it would start a modern day religion. The people who took on this life so longer than a week would be effect for a long time. They would multiply.

Drink was drunk, shoes were discarded, the sky was up and the earth was down. Everything was happy, people struggled with the heat almost as much as they did with the wet of previous years. I took on the mentality of a cold blooded creature mixed with Arnold Schwarzenegger character in Twins when he has JUST arrived in the States. Everything was interesting, everything was exciting and I BASKED in the sun. I was in my element. I felt like instead of everyone trying to catch up with the world, the world and everyone were in keeping within this tiny microcosm. This made me feel the happiness and content seem back into my bones and broken spirit. Life was [becoming] good again.

Y'know, every year, that first Chinese (?) lantern that you see drifting away never fails to stop me dead in my tracks. There is something so serene about fire when it is placed unobstructed so close air and water - I've been told that i need to go and see the funeral pyres on the Gangees. I will oneday. Soon I hope.

I feel very stop start on trying to explain why I enjoy Glastonbury, there are many many things that make things super special while there but on their own or out of context they mean very little. I for one am happy that there are flags there, not only are they navigation point BUT they add and create their own atmosphere. I have a weird respect or admiration for standard bearers. This goes for flags and generally hanging floating flappiness in general I suppose because I found myself drawn to bunting made of clothes (in the picture at the top) and the Tower in the Park and the rings of flags at the back of the West Holt stage and well everything.

I consider myself a version of a veteran now. This was my third in a row (I'm so cool). I was most nervous this time because I was the one who had been before. Maybe I was slightly selfish in my desire to stick to my original 'plan' and so I let the girls go off and do their own things (which included reading Heat magazine, checking work emails and substituting loosing something for someone stealing something...) In their defence, if they go again, they will enjoy it more now that they have done the tourist bit. BASICALLY, I LOVED the wondering with no aim. Always knowing that no matter what direction I walked and whatever direction I looked when I got to wherever I ended up, I KNEW there would be something I could EASILY draw a great deal of happiness from. I saw few of the headline acts or the big names, I looked at the schedule very little and fortunately/sadly my phone died quite early on. Fortunately because I had no desire to be contactable. Sadly because I missed seeing my friend Kimmy which sucked and I had no means of photographing anything. A new approach that I had never needed to take was having next to no money. I ducked and dived and mainly ate Dole fruit pots. THEY ARE A MUST FOR ANY FESTIVAL GOER.
I have said and prossibly will say very little of what I saw, I will give you a basic list if you want BUT I am trying, whether I'm succeeding or not I don't know or care.

Broken bells just because,

Beth Jeans Houghton singing about maths,
Chou Chou caramel Cashews,
Park stage,
The T-shirt bunting near the back of the park in between the tower and the bins - my favourite stop of the entire site.
Sweat in the rabbit hole.
Shade under a rock in the stone circle.
Peaceful bliss of Tipis
Edith Bowman
Stopping off at the BBC Introducing tent and always catching the end of the act
XX – 8am til I come
Shlo mini set… Hypnotic Brass Ensemble
The desire for Goan Fish curry and the failure to satiate that curry desire
Ali the Scouse at Mumford
Muse. Sick. Adam. Sick. With Baby Lube fella. I'm Danny Dyer.
Keane wondering passed at Toots
Rodrigo y Gabriella,
Michael Harvey – Bimble Inn
Rabbit Hole
Beach House
Watching the sun set and the full moon rise simultaneously each night
Quiet reflection
Stoned in the stone circle.
Introducing legal highs to a friend
Rusko being quiet & CUBE henge
The first Glasto arguement I had seen (I was domestic)
The smile on Gabbie’s face after she had had some time to do her own thing.
The comfort of being amongst thousands of like minded people - the happy buzz
If Glasto was a month long... a new world regilion would be created
Ukcreations.co.uk - beautiful iron work
Hammocks.co.uk - beautiful hammock work
Halloumi burger - Halloumyou,Halloumi
Dan and Pip. True spokespeople for our generation.

It's funny, there is ONE RESOUNDING image I cannot shake from my head. If I am sitting trying to conjure brilliance and diversity about my adventures of Glastonbury 2010. All I get is THIS.

I'll set the scene. It was Sunday afternoon. We had just traipsed all the way back to the car, I could pack up my tent properly and we still had most of the cans of food and heavy things so I marched, sweated, stumbled... CONQUERED the journey with the girls and got back to the car in the BLAZING sunshine. I made a makeshift sun shelter and lay there. For a while. Then we headed back in various directions (including picking up a phone that had been handed in) agreeing to meet at the car at the end of the night. My world only really has room for one at the moment. England were playing Germany, Slash was making genius come out of his fingers so I meandered in the opposite direction up hill. In the real world, I would instinctively wonder downhill, so this is significant. I got to the stone circle. HOT but not-so-bothered and lay down. Snooze, dosed and napped for while in the shade of a wonderful rock. I had a family come and go and a pair of youngish West Country folk. They were nice and then I took this picture. I was happy. PERFECTLY HAPPY. As good as it gets for me.